


Rage Against the Light

by annabeth



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Masturbation, Outdoor Sex, Pining, but Inuyasha does imagine her naked, emotionally constipated boy, not really underage because Kagome is not present, outdoor masturbation, unspoken feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24524950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/annabeth
Summary: Instead, Inuyasha had found this private sanctuary, this tree, this part of the forest, where he could scratch this untenable itch.written as a bonus fill of "masturbation" for Banned Together Bingo.
Relationships: Higurashi Kagome/InuYasha, Inuyasha/Kikyo (mentioned)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	Rage Against the Light

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a perversion (ha) of Dylan Thomas's poem.

It was a rare moment alone for Inuyasha. He'd hied off at dawn to track Kikyo, who he'd scented on the wind as the sky began to turn, from a soft, worn grey color to the faintest pale pink. The pink slowly bleeding into the grey sky had reminded Inuyasha of Kagome's lips, the petal-rose color of them.

But he had not seen Kikyo, and before he went back to Kaede's village and met up with the others, he had some business he wanted to take care of, namely in the form of pent-up tension.

Inuyasha sniffed the air; nothing but the distant scents of small animals and game, and in the far-flung reaches the slight stink of smoke and _youkai_. But Inuyasha had killed that _youkai_ , so he didn't have to worry about it; satisfied that he was well and truly alone, and that he wouldn't be interrupted, Inuyasha leapt into the tree he'd been standing beneath.

From his perch he could see clear across Japan for miles, the glossy green of tree leaves to the faint blue glitter of water. It was calm, and beautiful, and yet Inuyasha was restless, an itch he hadn't been able to scratch—hadn't _wanted_ to scratch, because he felt disloyal about it, but…

He slipped his hand beneath the waistband of his fire-rat kimono; a whisper of a touch against his hot flesh and his head fell back, against the rough tree bark behind him. Inuyasha took a moment just to breathe, to feel the slight rasp of his claws, the cadence of his breath as it began to rage in his lungs and body, the same rage reflected in his erect, pulsing flesh—the same rage that gnashed at the insides of his heart.

The ache began to grow, to build, to turn back to that itch Inuyasha had been feeling for days. Inuyasha ringed his cock with his fingers, exceptionally careful not to claw extra sensitive skin, and felt the rage of his breath accelerate, felt the rapid tempo of his heart increase, felt his skin begin to glow with the first, hot torch of arousal.

Inuyasha had been sleeping in the same room or same campsite as Kagome for months. When it had first started, he hadn't even _liked_ her. But gradually he'd accepted her, then realized he felt very powerfully about protecting her safety. Now, even though he'd once thought Kikyo was the true end of his heart—the love he'd felt for her had been so overwhelming, so intricately entwined into his heart—he found himself imagining Kagome when he felt like this. When he slept by her, and her scent soothed him into a better rest, or the sound of her breath calmed his own, those times he found himself dreaming of _her_.

And now, high in a tree, his arousal evident to all that might see and yet evident to no one because he was well and truly alone, Inuyasha felt freed from constraints that held him in place down below, with his friends—and Kagome. Up here, the need to be a strong presence for them didn't matter. Up here, he could touch himself, as he did now; could sweep his fingers up and down his length until he began to feel the flush of arousal ratchet higher.

Inuyasha closed his eyes and succumbed to bitter emotion and sweeter pleasure. Behind his closed eyes, red danced on his inner lids from the sun rising, piercing his serenity with its impudence. He felt the peace of life lived alone recede, replaced by the gentle crashing wave of having friends, a different kind of peace, one that afforded him this: the chance to escape, to picture petal-rose lips and what they might taste like.

His hand ghosted upwards, and his thumb flicked quickly over his slit, barely a presence he could feel, yet he arched, his hips coming up away from the tree branch supporting him. Inuyasha wasn't worried he'd fall. He'd done this before, long ago—more than fifty years ago—when the itch had become too troublesome to ignore, and before he'd had Kikyo to scratch it. He had touched her face, and gone away, and touched himself… he had loved and fallen into despair over it, but he had to cast his mind way back, to the days when he was solitary, with nothing and no one to protect.

Sesshomaru would have mocked him for human feelings, in that long-ago far-flung past. He would have said Inuyasha had base, disgusting desires that no _youkai_ would ever have, or admit to having—regardless of the fact that they not only had them, they procreated with human women, who bore the creatures like Inuyasha.

And Inuyasha's half-human side had felt desire when he was young—much like he felt it now, as his body yearned, as it rose and fell on the strength of his tortured breath. Inuyasha was done tip-toeing around; he grasped himself more firmly, fingers a tight circle around his shaft, and he tugged in that age-old dance, tugged until the hood slipped back and the crown of his cock popped out. He shoved his fire-rat kimono down a bit, exposing himself to the cool morning air, and caught his lip between his teeth as he felt the air caress him.

Much like his hands, the air teased at him, breezes diving towards him, and tangling insubstantial fingers around him even as he tightened his grip again. He repeated the motion from before, and when the head peeked out, dripping clear fluid, Inuyasha's breath snagged on invisible brambles of desire and he swiped the fluid up with his fingers. He spread it down and over his cock, coating himself with his own juices, until he was slick and gasping as he slid in and out of the sleeve of his fingers.

"K-kagome," he whispered; it didn't matter how far away she was, or how unlikely it was anyone could hear him, he had secrets that must be kept. Kagome was innocent of his feelings, she didn't know he had them, and he wasn't going to burden her with them. Instead, he'd found this private sanctuary, this tree, this part of the forest, where he could scratch this untenable itch.

Eyes still closed, he imagined her in those moments when he'd glimpsed bits of herself she kept private. Like the time he'd been captured by the sage, escaped, and wound up facing Kagome—when she was topless in a bath. Inuyasha's breath wheezed as he remembered, as he conjured up the images in the privacy of his mind, the soft, round slopes of her breasts—bigger than he'd expected, from the way she dressed. They had been a pure moon-white, tipped with the petal-rose of her nipples that matched the same shade of her lips.

Inuyasha began to climb the heights of pleasure, crossed a bridge of sensation until he was looking over the edge of a chasm, his orgasm shimmering in sight. He clasped his dick, he stroked it thoroughly, and he pulled more images of Kagome's beauty from his memory as the flesh grew more and more slippery, and as it swelled within the enclosure of his fingers. On the verge, Inuyasha held himself, and held himself, and stoked the fire higher, even as a whiff of metaphorical brimstone intruded; Inuyasha knew it was wrong to think of Kagome like this, when she didn't know how he felt and he didn't have her permission—but he had only so much self-restraint, and better this than to hurt her with his base lusts.

Inuyasha was becoming frantic, frantic to _feel_ , desperate to touch, and desperate _to_ the touch, and he scrabbled with his kimono and his undershirt until he could scratch at his own nipples—not gently enough, but not hard enough to bleed—and pinching one, even as his breath pinched in his lungs, Inuyasha was hard-pressed not to scream.

With one hand on his cock, as he thrust into his fingers, and one hand squeezing a nipple, he had no hands to smother the noises he was making, but he chewed his lip hard as things began to progress even further.

Thinking of Kagome—of the sought-after but unlikely prospect of kissing her—Inuyasha was almost… _there_.

His body bucked on the branch, and buffeted by the breeze, Inuyasha felt himself straining towards the ultimate completion—or at least, what he could get, by himself, with his own hands, and without being to touch the object of his arousal. A crescendo rose, and swamped him, and Inuyasha simply fell from a great precipice into an explosion of pleasure. His vision whited out behind his lids; his mouth parted on a soundless shout, and his fingers went still on his cock as it spurted. He opened his eyes and watched as come arced out from his cock, spraying the fresh morning air, and it sparkled like dew in the sunlight that was gilding his little retreat.

It spattered him, and he knew he'd be even a little bit later getting back, because he needed a bath.

But as his body subsided, as it released the pent-up itch, Inuyasha relaxed; he could face her again, now. He could look Kagome in the eye and, for at least a few days, this untenable itch wouldn't rear its ugly head.

He wiped at his hand, swiping come off his kimono, and, touching his tongue to the imprints of his teeth on his lower lip, Inuyasha covered himself and hopped down from the tree.

It was time to go back.

END


End file.
